


The Beat That My Heart Skipped

by HybridOwl



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, May being cool, Peter being a teeny bit Tsundere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-09-15 09:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9228320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HybridOwl/pseuds/HybridOwl
Summary: Wade makes friends with Aunt May, and Peter is forced to reevaluate the other man.





	1. When We First Met

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on AO3, my first multichapter, and my first spideypool. in the famous words of Wade Winston Wilson, be gentle with me.

When Peter comes into Aunt May's house, Deadpool says "Hey Peter!"

At first, Peter thinks he's been made; this was the day that someone had found out his secret identity and was going to use it to destroy the one thing he had left. He would have shot webs at Deadpool, yelled at him to keep the hell away from his aunt, and possibly removed a limb or two to emphasis his point.

But then Aunt May was calling from the kitchen about food being done, and Deadpool was pausing the show, squealing and jumping up to go to the dining room, chattering along in that way he has. 

So Peter held back, just waiting and hoping to understand. 

After they'd finished the salad and were halfway through the (painfully dry) meatloaf, Peter had gotten something like the whole story. 

Aunt May had been late coming home from work one night, but hadn't wanted to bother Peter by calling him and asking for an escort, so she just walked home on her own. Of course, this being the NYC, she had been stopped by a group of thugs looking to cause trouble.

"And that's where I stepped in." Deadpool said cheerfully, somehow nearly done with his meatloaf piece despite Peter having not once seen him lift his mask to eat. 

"I dropped in, scared the little shits off, and started talking to your aunt; she's pretty great!"

Aunt May laughed, putting a hand on Deadpools' arm. "You're pretty great yourself young man. He walked me all the way home, even though he was busy protecting the city."

"Busy...?" Peter repeated, looking at Deadpool.

"I'm a superhero, kiddo! I watch over the city and protect people." Deadpool explained, pushing away his empty plate and puffing out his chest.

"Really now? That's not what I've heard." Peter said, taking a bite of his meatloaf and giving Deadpool a falsely innocent look. Deadpools eyes narrowed.

"Peter, can I see you in the kitchen? You can help me with the dishes." Peter inwardly cringed at the tone Aunt May was using; it usually lead to a scolding that ended with him feeling like a jerk.

"Need any help May?" Deadpool asked, cheerful voice back in full force, but Peter could sense some wariness to it now. 

"No thank you dear. You just go back to watching Golden Girls; I'll be back with you in a little bit." Aunt May said, walking into the kitchen with her and Deadpool's plate while Peter followed, holding his own plate with the vague idea of using it as a shield if necessary. 

"Peter Benjamin Parker, you will not be rude to that poor man out there." Aunt May said, using the dish scrubbing wand as an extension of her arm to point at him sternly. Peter sighed, leaning uncomfortably against the counter. He didn't know how to phrase this so that Aunt May understood without just saying the truth.

"Aunt May, he's not what you think, I've seen him around before while- while working, and he's bad news. He hurts people. He's crazy."

"Peter, he has been nothing but kind. Yes he's a little odd, and the talking to himself took a bit of getting used to-" at that Peter spluttered.

"Getting used to? How long have you two been-" Aunt May gave him a look, and Peters mouth snapped shut, looking away contritely.

"He's a good man; he just needs the opportunity to show it. Everyone deserves a chance at a new start."

Peter thought back on the last few weeks, how quiet it had been, how he hadn't seen hide nor hair of Deadpool. Was it because Deadpool really was trying to turn over a new leaf? He sighed.

"Alright Aunt May. But if he hurts you in any way-"

"I know I'll have you to watch my back." she said, smiling, and pulled him down to kiss him on the forehead. "Now go out there, will you? He has a tendency to accidentally break things, and I really like that lamp near the couch."

Peter laughed. "Sure thing Aunt May."

\------

The evening passed surprisingly well, and Peter found himself relaxing as he listened to Deadpools' running commentary on the show and anything and everything else that caught his fancy at that particular moment. It was surprisingly soothing, especially hearing his aunt laugh too; it had been a long time since she had laughed like that, not since Uncle Ben died.

Peter and Deadpool ended up leaving at the same time, Peter thinking he could get in a good amount of time patrolling and still get a couple hours sleep before school and work, but when Peter started walking Deadpool followed beside him, stopping when Peter stopped.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked, looking sidelong at the merc with the mouth.

"I'm walking you home, petey-pie. I can't have May's favorite nephew be hurt on my watch."

"Don't you, I don't know, have more important things to do? Protecting the city and all that?"

"Nah, spidey can handle that tonight. Besides, I'm a more small scale helper. Big confrontations have a tendency to end with me shooting people in uncomfortable places, and I've been trying really hard not to unalive people." Deadpool seemed to notice Peter tense up at the mention of shooting people, and went silent, just continuing to walk with Peter.

Well, as silent as Deadpool could get.

"I did not. I know we're not making a great first impression, but we've got to try. Yeah, she's really cool."

Guessing that Deadpool was talking about Aunt May with the last comment, Peter smiled just a little. "Yeah, she really is isn't she."

Deadpool stopped, looking at Peter. "Are you a mutant?"

Peter's brain went blank. He shoved his hands into his jean pockets, subtly checking that his web slingers were attached to his wrists just in case.

"What makes you ask that?" Peter said, carefully neutral.

"Cause you read my mind!" Deadpool said, serious sounding for once, and Peter laughed. 

"Oh yeah I'm a real professor X. No, Deadpool, I'm just me." Technically a lie, but Peter had been protecting his secret identity long enough that it hardly stung at all.

"Whew. I was really worried there for a second. Because every time I meet a mind reader, I keep thinking 'don't think dirty thoughts!' and then I end up thinking about the sort of thing I shouldn't be thinking about and then I'm projecting truly x rated porn into some poor persons head, and you're really, really pretty-"

"Deadpool! Relax. I can't see any mind porn. Though I am flattered you think I'm pretty, I thought you had a thing for Spiderman?" Peter said, chuckling. Deadpool went silent, and if Peter didn't know any better, he would say that Deadpool looked almost nervous. 

"How do you know that?" he asked, shyly. Peter had never heard Deadpool say anything shyly, ever. 

Biting back his original response which was 'everybody knows about it, you're kind of not subtle at all', he said "I'm a photographer of super heroes, Spiderman most specifically. I pick up on things that a most people don't know."

Deadpool laughed sheepishly.

"I guess I haven't exactly hidden it. Spideys special, huh? You know, you've seen him. That ass? Damn, you could bounce a quarter off it like 10 feet in the air. And he's- he's a real hero. He helps people. I'm trying to be, to not do the unaliving thing, but it's really hard. I think your aunt is the first person who gave me a chance, besides the people that thought I WAS Spiderman. I don't think he'll ever give me the time of day."

"You don't know that." Peter said, guiltily. "Maybe he'll surprise you. You've convinced me you're trying, I'm sure Spiderman will be able to see it too if you gave him the chance."

"You think so?" Deadpool asked. 

Peter shrugged. "Maybe bring a peace offering, but yeah." 

He could tell Deadpool was grinning behind the mask. How the hell he managed to make that mask so expressive was beyond Peter. 

They kept walking, Deadpool talking about shows, things he had noticed, even random things that popped into his head, and Peter finds himself talking back, about his school and about work and his boss and his friends, just letting it flow out to someone who wouldn't use the information against him like he was always afraid of. He was surprised with himself that he was able to trust Deadpool with this, even if there was no way Deadpool could connect Peter Parker with Spiderman. But more surprising than that was that Deadpool listened.

They reached Peters block, and Peter hesitated. Did he really feel comfortable with Deadpool knowing where he lived? Although, Deadpool knew where Aunt May lived, which was in reality a lot more important to Peter.... 

Seeming to catch Peters' hesitation, Deadpool patted him on the back.

"This is your stop right?" when Peter nodded, Deadpool stepped back. "Well, I better leave you to it then. Unless you think you're going to get mugged walking up the stairs to your apartment?"

There was something teasing in Deadpools' tone, quieter and less rambunctious than Deadpool's flirting usually was, but unmistakable. It made Peter want to do insane things, really.

"I'm a big boy, Wade Wilson. I can take care of myself." his voice was pitched much lower than he intended it to, his eyes locked with the eyes of the mercs mask.

They stood there for a moment together, assessing, Peters skin humming less like his spidey senses going off and more like possibility. He coughed, looking away.

"Well, goodnight." He said, giving a lazy salute to Deadpool, walking backwards towards his apartment building, and would have tripped over some trash on the curb if not for his spidey senses telling him to go around.

Wade was still looking at him, and Peter wished he could see his eyes, that he had some clue what the (ex?)mercenary was thinking. Eventually Peter had to turn around, and was nearly to his apartment when he heard Deadpools' quiet "goodnight, Peter."

\------

He ended up not getting much in the way of sleep that night, making up for the time he lost walking home with Deadpool by replacing sleep time with patrol time. He found himself surprisingly okay with that, even if he was yawning through class the next day. 

Work was what it always was, Peter turning in his best work and J.J. screaming at everyone to skewer Spiderman on a journalistic pike. Anna from two cubicles down smiled at him shyly, and Henry from the right diagonal desk heated fish in microwave again.

M. J. called to talk for a little while before her and Harry went out for dinner, hinting once again that he should take her up on a blind date with M.J.'s friend, but Peter gently declined. He wasn't up for the dating scene right now, too busy and not interested enough to maintain a relationship, and he really wasn't into the concept of one night stands. So, that left him with an appointment with his left hand, and then he went out on patrol. 

He'd stopped two muggings and a bank robbery and it was nearly midnight when Deadpool showed up, standing on a nearby rooftop with something in his hands that Peter couldn't quite make out from here.

As he swung closer, he recognized what they were; takeout bags, with taco logos on them. Peter landed lightly on the rooftop, staying a little bit away from Deadpool just in case, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hey Spidey! I was just thinking, 'what would I want most if I was spending my time hero-ing it up at all hours of the night?' and I came up with it; a taco break! well, not just tacos, I wasn't sure what you liked, so there are some tacos, two burritos, an enchilada, like 6 chimichangas but most of those are mine, and-"

"Any reason you decided to give me food after you've been off the radar for weeks?" Peter asked in his best Spiderman voice. He expected Deadpool to deflate a little at the obvious distrust in the question, but instead he seemed to beam through his mask.

"Aw, were you missing me Spidey?" Deadpool asked excitedly, and Peter rolled his eyes, and spoke more harshly then he meant to.

"Like I miss my virginity. Oh wait, that's not at all. Seriously though, why the food?"

"It's a- well, it's a peace offering." Deadpool said, a little timidly, and something in Peter softened. Wade had listened to Peter last night?

"I know we aren't friends and all," Deadpool continued with false assuredness, "but I figured, since I'm trying this whole not killing people for money thing, we might as well be on the same side. And hey, what better way to show that then with Mexican food?"

Peter found himself smiling without meaning to. Well, he hadn't eaten anything but a Raman cup since lunch anyway. "Okay."

"Okay?" Wade repeated, shifting on the spot.

"Okay, let's have a taco break. I call the enchilada, at least 1 chimichanga, and depending on the type of burrito one or both of those." Peter said, taking a seat at the edge of the rooftop and looking over at Deadpool expectantly.

"Ooo, demanding, I like it." Deadpool said, sitting down next to him, "But I may have to fight you for that chimichanga."

Peter snorted, grabbing one of the bags and rummaging around while simultaneously pushing his mask up to his nose to free up his mouth. "Yeah yeah yeah, keep talking buddy; we know who'd win that fight." 

Deadpool scoffed, reaching into his bag and pulling out a chimichanga and unwrapping the top. "Well, I don't know that."

Out of spite, Peter webbed the chimichanga out of Deadpools hand just as he was about to take a bite, and took a bigger than necessary bite of his own, smirking at Deadpool who was gaping at him open mouthed.

As Deadpool made a noise of pure betrayal, Peter realized that he could see Deadpools mouth, that the merc had rolled up his mask just like Peter had to eat. Peter had seen Deadpools skin before, but it always fascinated him when it happened; he was pitted and scarred like a flesh toned moon, and Peter wondered if it hurt at all. 

Peter shook it off, pulling his gaze away to take another bite, making noises of pleasure just to emphasize once more that he was the winner in the chimichanga royale.

Deadpool swallowed hard, turning back to the bags without a word. There was a flush on his neck peaking up from his suit, and the chimichanga in Peter's mouth suddenly got heavy, and swallowing was a little more difficult than anticipated. 

The silence lasted all of a minute before Deadpool started up talking again, but Peter once again found himself not minding, struggling to keep up with Deadpools tangents but more than happy to add a quip here or there when a bit of mocking felt necessary. 

Between the two of them, they demolished the food, and Peter found himself licking the grease from his fingers when he found that there were no napkins in the bags.

Deadpool, who had put his mask back down, coughed and looked away. 

"Well, this was fun, but I better be off now. Lots to do, lots of things not to do, you know how it is. See ya!"

And before Peter had more than a chance to blink, Deadpool had jumped off the building into the alley below, right into a dumpster. Peter winced at that, but reasoned that at least it was better than the alternative of shattering his legs on the pavement.

Peter watched Deadpool leave, the mercenary whistling to himself as he went, and then Peter stood up, dusted himself off, put his mask back down and got to work.

It was a busy night, but all through it the taste of the food stayed on his tongue.


	2. Loving Every Idiosyncracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, I keep my flirty comments to a minimum with you. It's you who always starts things." Deadpool complained. Peter snorted.
> 
> "What? How am I the one that starts things?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who kudo'd and commented and bookmarked and just read the last chapter; I had a hard time writing this one, so hopefully it turned out okay.

"I don't like it." said Stark to no one in particular, blasting another robot out the sky.

"Like what? Ha, take that Mr. Roboto." Peter replied, webbing a particularly annoying robot to the side of a building, swinging past where Thor was taking on six of them with lightning and winning.

"You and Deadpool. I don't like it." Stark replied, and Peter tensed mid swing, having to adjust the trajectory of his next web to avoid hitting a building.

"What about me and Deadpool?" Peter asked, a little more defensively that he intended. 

"Cut the chatter, guys." said Cap, who Peter couldn't see but could whose shield he could hear pinging off things in the background.

"You two being buddy-buddy. We know how you two have been going on patrol together, eating out together." Stark continued, completely ignoring the order.

"I fail to see how that's your business Ironman." 

"If someone attacks during your little meal time and you aren't there to stop it, that's my business. Besides, who would want to hang out with Deadpool? When the crazy fairy was handing out its magic dust it just said fuck it and poured out the whole bag on him. He's a psycho killer crazy pants who keeps stealing my shit and getting it exploded-"

"one, it's for half an hour twice a week at random times when there isn't anything going on, two, this city has more supers than ATMs and half of them operate exclusively at night, and three, don't be a jackass, I can hang out with whoever the hell I like."

"I-" Stark began to retort, before there was an explosion on 31st and he had to focus on that.

If the next couple robots Peter takes on end up with their insides ripped out of their chest, Peter blames adrenaline. 

\--------

Of course, because he was a little more enthusiastic and a little less cautious, he gets hit a couple times before the day is done, so when he goes to Aunt May's the next day he's 12 pounds of green and yellow bruises in a 2 pound back, and when Aunt May opens the door she gapes at him.

"Fell down a couple of stairs at school. Nothing broken, just bruised. Like my pride." he laughed self deprecatingly, and they both knew Aunt May didn't believe a word of it. Still, she smiled tensely at him, gave him a hug, and let him in.

"I'm pretty excited, Wade offered to cook tonight." Aunt May said, steering him into the house. Peter raised an eyebrow.

"Is that so?" Peter walked over to the kitchen, leaning in the doorway. There, humming oops I did it again under his breath, was Deadpool, in full getup except his gloves which were shoved in the band of the frilly yellow apron Wade was wearing. He was staring impatiently at the oven, scarred hands on his hips. It was a surprisingly comforting sight, like Deadpool belonged in his aunt's house, in Peter's normal life.

"I didn't know you could cook." Peter said, and Deadpool jumped, shoving his hands behind his back quickly. 

"I didn't know you were going to be here so early." Deadpool countered, looking uncomfortable. Peter shrugged, purposefully looking away so that Deadpool had time to put his gloves back on. 

"What can I say; I'm a man of many mysteries. One of them being the mystery as to why I'm always late for things, and why tonight's the exception. Anyway, what are you making?"

"Crab salad cups for appetizers, duck breast with pomegranate citrus glaze for the main course, and chocolate mouse is chilling in the fridge for desert."

"Wow. You really went all out. And here all I ever heard of you eating was chimichangas." Peter said slipping a little closer into the too-small kitchen, and Deadpool shifted himself, and suddenly they were a little bit closer than they probably should be in his aunt's kitchen. Deadpools voice was pitched low, probably so as not to bother Aunt May, and the deep rumble of his voice washed over Peter so he had to push back a shudder.

"I always do things with maximum effort. And I don't just eat chimichangas; I put lots of things in my mouth." the oven dinged. Peter could see the second that Deadpool noticed his own innuendo, eyes widening comically as Peter started laughing hard.

"What are you two up to in there?" Aunt May called, and quickly both of them stepped back, Deadpool so he was leaning against the counter and Peter back to leaning in the entryway when Aunt May came to poke her head in.

"Just joking around. I was going to help Deadpool cart out the appetizers, right?" Peter offered, and Deadpool nodded repeatedly, walking over to the fridge and pulling out a tray of what Peter had to assume were crab salad cups, handing them to Peter.

"Thanks man. You coming?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow. Deadpool coughed.

"Yeah, just give me a minute, gotta make sure the dick- duck! Doesn't burn."

Peter nodded, and as Peter and Aunt May left, Peters super hearing let him catch Deadpool next words.

"I'm in soooo much trouble."

\----------

The remained of the evening was a mixture of relaxed and awkward, Deadpool looking at Peter a little long and then seeming to catch himself doing it. Aunt May kept looking between the two of them, smiling. And Peter was just trying to stay afloat under the assault of fantastic food Wade had made them.

"I am so full. I think I'll just roll home." Peter said, stretching his arms out in the empty street, Deadpool snorting beside him.

"You should be. I made enough for 10 people. I thought even with my eating there would be leftovers, but nooo, someone's a little piglet."

"Hey, I'll have you know I'm a growing boy. I need my sustenance." Peter complained, fighting his smile behind a fake pout. And really, Peter couldn't be blamed for over eating; the only person who ever seemed to give him enough food to keep up with his metabolism was Wade, whether it was now with his aunt or on the rooftops with Spiderman. Probably because the other man ate as much as Peter did.

"I'm not going to say that. No, I don't care if it seems like- Oy, words hurt white." Deadpool grumbled at himself. Peter waited patiently for Deadpool to finish, relaxed. His aunt was right, of course. It took some getting used to, but once you did, Deadpool talking to himself really wasn't any big deal. 

"Who gave you the bruises, by the way?" Deadpool asked with a studied offhandedness, snapping Peter back into the conversation.

"Like I told Aunt May; a mean ol' set of stairs." Peter grinned cheerfully, shoving his thumbs in his pockets and tipping his head down; his go-to 'I'm just a harmless civilian no need to pay attention to me' stance.

"That mean ol' set of stairs has a mean ol' right hook." Deadpool said coolly. Peter scoffed.

"I tripped over someone's shoe on the way down. No big deal, I'm fine now, and-"

"You don't need to lie, Peter." Deadpool said, grabbing one of Peter's arms. They're standing close again, and Peter has to look ever so slightly up to look into Deadpools masked eyes. Deadpool speaks quietly. "If there's someone hurting you, or someones, just tell me, and they won't be a problem anymore."

"What'll you do, kill them?" Peter tried to joke. When he got no answer, he shrugged off Deadpools arm, chilled by the thought. 

"I like your Aunt May, Peter. She's one of the few friends I have. And she cares about you. I won't let her lose you." there's something hiding behind the statement, something Deadpool wasn't saying. Peter didn't know what it was, wasn't sure he wanted to know. 

"That's not your problem. You don't even know me." Peter said, crossing his arms.

"Maybe I'd like to." Deadpool said quietly, holding Peter's gaze. It made Peter feel uncomfortable, skittish. He didn't want people to know him, didn't want anyone digging too deep; he couldn't even allow himself the luxury of letting aunt may in all the way. Not after Gwen.

"I don't know anything about you Wade- Deadpool. All I know is you're in my aunt's life, and she's the most important person in the world to me."

"You know more about me than most people do; I've seen it. you've seen the good parts, and let me near your aunt, even though I think you know an awful lot more about my bad points than you usually let on." it was Peter's turn to flinch away; had he really been that obvious? Then again, he hadn't run away or told the cops when Deadpool admitted he killed people the first time they walked home together, so maybe that was it. Peter sighed, rubbing his face with a hand.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, suddenly terribly tired. It had been a long week, and he really wasn't up for whatever this was.

"I just want to be friends, okay? I'm not asking to be your best friend, to braid your hair and talk about boys. Well, I'll probably talk about boys, sometimes, or girls, or whatever. I'm just saying; I don't want to just nod at each other over May's table; I want to have your back when you need it. And I- don't feel that way about a lot of people. Yes, having their back if you know what I mean-"

"Aaaaannnddd there's the Deadpool we all know. I wondered when this serious stuff was going to make way for the flirty comments."

"Hey, I keep my flirty comments to a minimum with you. It's you who always starts things." Deadpool complained. Peter snorted.

"What? How am I the one that starts things?"

"Well let's see. You move in close," Deadpool stepped in close, "you pitch your voice low," he half purred, lowly. "And you look up with those big brown eyes while you smile like you've got a secret." 

Peter could feel the heat radiating off Wade, could smell the blood-leather-ozone smell of him, could see that they were inches away from their mouths touching. 

"That- that doesn't mean anything." Peter looked away, turning red. Yeah, okay, he totally did all those things around Deadpool. He didn't really mean it as flirting. Did he?

"Doesn't it? My bad." Deadpool said nonchalantly, stepping back. Peter scowled. It was times like this when he wishes he could see Wade's face, could get a read on his emotions. Peter felt like he wore his heart on his sleeve without his own mask to hide things. 

"Well my not at all flirty Petey-pie, we better get you home before you turn into a pumpkin." they started walking, and Deadpool continued. "Would that make you a cannibal? Like Peter Peter pumpkin eater? Or is there another Peter, and if it were two Peters, can I get in on that action? And-"

Peter found himself relaxing as Deadpool continued. This was better. He could deal with this. 

They walked back, shoulders bumping every once in a while, until finally they're back at Peter's apartment building.

Before Peter goes inside, Deadpool clears his throat.

"Can I see your phone?" Wade asked, and Peter blanched.

"What? Why?"

"Just... give it to me, please?" Peter doesn't think he's ever heard Wade say please in the entire time he's known him; he gives his phone over at least partially out of shock.

Wade fiddled with it a bit, then handed it back; looking through to see what he did, and that the phone was still functioning, Peter saw a new contact; Wade *heart*. When he looked up at Wade, eyebrow raised, Wade shrugged.

"If you need me, or you know even if you just want to exchange stupid poop emojis with me, not that there aren't any other emojis, I live for the day I can use the surfer dude in context-"

Getting used to how Wade rambled, Peter patted him on the shoulder to stop him. "Thanks Wade." 

Peter had the feeling that under the mask, Wade was smiling.

\-------

It becomes normal to text Wade throughout the day; he says goodnight before night patrols, but other than that it's a near constant back and forth between the two. J. J. fires him at least twice for it (it's hard to keep track; Peter is fired and rehired almost daily, after all), and if he laughs out loud one more time in class he's pretty sure his professor will climb up to where he's sitting in the lecture hall and punch him personally. 

But Peter can't seem to stop. Peter doesn't even think he wants to stop.

\--------

It's a month later when Peter nearly kills a man. He's on patrol and his spidey sense tingles, and he swings over to find a bunch of guys facing off against Deadpool. 

He's just in time to see Deadpool shot 6 times in the head and chest. Peter's vision goes red, roaring fills his ears. He swings in, slamming into the shooter with a kick that makes something in the man crack.

he goes through the rest like a whirlwind, cracking two of their skulls together, breaking one guys arms, slamming another's head into a wall. Only when they're all lying on the ground does the roaring in his ears die down, when he remembers hey, Deadpool can't actually die.

Feeling sick, he checks their pulse, sighing in relief when he finds out none actually bit the dust. He ties them together with webbing in the center of the alley, and goes back to kneel beside the reviving merc. The holes in his head are beginning to heal, but his mask is toast.

Deadpool is bleeding all over the soot stained snow, mingling like some messed up work of abstractionist art, only aided by the Picasso like splitting up of Deadpools face that the all over scars do. Peter absently wonders what they feel like as he watches Deadpool twitch, groan. 

"That sucked. Why does that always suck?" Deadpool asked nobody, rubbing his head where one of the gunshots was.

"What the hell were you doing, taking on 6 guys at once?" Peter said. Or maybe yelled, he can't be sure. He knows he doesn't shake Deadpool, which is a close thing.

"Spidey! Hey man. Why are there two of you again? Anyway, not my fault. I can totally take on 6 people. I just wasn't sure how to take on this bunch without killing them; I hesitated, I got shot. Jackass had good aim." Deadpool said cheerfully, gray-blue eyes crinkling to go with his dopey, not-all-there-smile.

Peter's stomach kind of turns at that. He hadn't really thought about the danger Deadpool was in, not being able to use his usual skill set while fighting. 

He promptly decided he didn't care.

"If you can't handle the fights, you shouldn't be out here. I know you can't die, but still-" he cuts himself off, biting his lip under the mask to keep himself from saying something stupid, like 'I don't like seeing you hurt,' or 'who else will have taco breaks with me,' or perhaps the worst, 'what would Aunt may do if she lost you too?'

As he struggles to control himself, Deadpool seems to come back to himself, losing that dopey look and getting a sharp gleam in his eye. "Listen up spidey, you-"

He sat up, and the remnants of his mask fell off. The sat in silence for a moment, looking down at its tattered remains. 

Then Deadpool shoved his hands over his face, covering it the best he could. "Don't look!"

Peter looked away automatically, not really questioning the panicked order. He knew how Wade felt about his face. But still. "Seriously Deadpool, I don't want you doing patrols anymore. I can't be worried about you getting your ass handed to you while I could be stopping a carjacking or rhino attacking or whatever."

"Why the hell would you be worried anyway? Like you said, I can't die, and it's not like I mean anything to you beside an annoyance with a free meal." Deadpool said bitterly, and Peter shook his head.

"Of course I care about you, I lo-" Peters insides seem to freeze over, stopping him in his tracks. Was he about to say he loved Deadpool?

"You what, Spiderman?" Deadpool asked, and Peter could feel his gaze on Peter. Peter shook his head, trying to clear it, and stood up.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I have to go." and with that he swung off. He knew he was running away, but what else was he going to do?

His mind was a churning mess. Did he really love Deadpool?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor, confused Peter.


	3. To Use The Words In Each Sentence As If They Were Blunt Instruments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...Peter?" He heard Deadpool say; it sounded garbled to Peters ears, strangled. How much blood had he lost anyway?
> 
> "Hey Wade."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd as usual, so if you see a mistake feel free to point it out.

Peter doesn't see Wade for a little over a month after that. Not because Deadpool makes himself scarce, which is the normal reason; no, Peter just goes out of his way to not be anywhere near the merc, swinging away the moment his spidey senses let him know that Wade is close.

 

He doesn't text Wade, even though Wade has sent him about a million poop emojis, frowny faces, and one, painful "what did I do, kid?" he feels like he's avoiding his Ex after a major fight, but one there had been no actual fight, and two they were never actually dating.

 

He doesn't go to Aunt Mays, doesn't think he can even look at Deadpools mask across the table without doing something crazy, even if he doesn't know what form that brand of crazy will take.

 

He's out of control, patrolling instead of sleeping, patrolling instead of going to class, making excuses instead of hanging out with friends so he could patrol some more. He's taking stupid risks that end in bruises all over and cuts and hurt bones all over, getting stabbed three separate times, and he longs for Wade's non-sequiturs like he longs for a balm for his hurt body.

 

On the fifth night at Aunt May's he skips, right after he gets back from patrol, bright and way too freaking early in the morning, there's a knock at his apartment door. He groans, leveraging himself off the couch and silently wincing as he looks in the mirror by the door; his face is just one big bruise, a nasty purple green after his nose was broken when Electro flung him into a wall two days ago. He looked like shit.

 

He pulled his hoodies hood up over his head, hoping to god or anyone else who might care at this particular moment that it was door to door salesmen or something. When looked through the peephole, there wasn't anything there. But when he turned away back into the apartment, Peter groaned again, going to open the door. Yeah, he could be opening it for a serial killer, but at this point, he just wants to die or go to sleep.

 

Which is why, of course, it's Deadpool at the door.

 

They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, the eyes on Deadpool's mask wide, Peter's swollen half closed. It's Peter that looks away first. "What do you want." Peter asks, picking at the edge of his hoodie. He seriously needs to do some laundry, this has got to be the eighth time he wore this since last he laundry, and he'd gone without underwear for an embarrassingly long time.

 

Finally, Deadpool speaks. "What. The hell. Happened to you." Deadpool says quietly, dangerously. Peter didn't bother to look up. Peter doesn't want to say, you happened, idiot.

 

"Nothing. Nothing happened. Bye, Deadpool." he goes to shut the door, but that fractured bone hadn't fixed itself since a week ago with Rhino, so when Deadpool grabs the door and holds it open, Peter can't do shit about it but flinch, and glare.

 

"Let go, Deadpool."

 

"Hey there, name's Wade Wilson, nice to meet you. Clearly we've never met before, because I distinctly remember telling one Peter parker that if he let someone beat him again I would kill them as painfully as I could manage while having them alive long enough to see their insides become their outsides." Deadpool had his falsely cheerful tone going, but the undercurrent of pure rage wasn't exactly something he could hide.

 

"You never said that." Peter pointed out. Deadpool sighed, frustrated, tired.

 

"Well, I meant it. Not my fault it half my productive conversations with you are just in my head. Petey, look at me." when Peter did no such thing, Peter felt a warm gloved hand go to his cheek, gently, oh so terribly gently, turning Peters face up to look into Deadpools' mask. And screw him ever thinking Deadpools' mask was expressive; he couldn't read a damn thing in that face.

 

"Damn, Peter. What happened?" he said, unbearably close, unbearably gentle, and Peter just felt tired, beaten. He wanted Deadpool to keep touching him, and he wanted to run as far and as fast as his legs would carry him. This was crazy. He was going crazy.

 

"You make me so crazy, Wade." Peter said miserably, and Wade didn't say anything to that, just running his thumb along Peter's cheek. Suddenly, Peter couldn't take it anymore, stepping back. He didn't account for the fact that this left Deadpool room to step forward, and now Wade was in his apartment, quietly shutting the door behind him.

 

Short of jumping out the window or hiding in the bathroom, Peter was trapped.

 

"You got a med kit anywhere in here?" Wade asks, and Peter shrugs, hands going into his hoodie pockets, shoulders pushed forward defensively.

 

"Bathroom." he answers, and Deadpool nods, heading to the door that wasn't open into Peter's messy bedroom. Deadpool rummaging around in the bathroom was painfully loud in the quiet that Peter had surrounded himself with this past month, especially with knowing Deadpool was there, but not talking. Peter sat down on the couch, rubbing a hand over his face, eyes closed. He thinks he might have dosed off a second, because the next time he opens his eyes, his hood is back down around his shoulders, the sleeve on his fractured arm was pushed up to his elbow, and his med kit laid out on the coffee table.

 

Next to him on the couch Deadpool sat, a bandage roll in one hand. Peter watches as Wade gently grabs his arm and starts wrapping, going slowly but firmly. When he was finished, he grabbed some scissors off the coffee table and cut the bandage efficiently, tying off the end on Peters arm.

 

"It's not a cast, which you should have by the way, but it will keep you from making it worse before we get you to the hospital."

 

"No hospital. 'm fine." Peter said, voice slurring slightly with sleepiness, yawning. Seriously, he's gone almost the whole month without getting tired, and now he just couldn't keep awake. "When'd you learn how to do that?"

 

"Oh, it's all part of my back story; you can read all about it in the back issues. Shut up white."

 

"Yeah, white. Quit being a dick." Peter agreed, yawning again. He moved his arm experimentally. It still hurt, but it didn't hurt nearly as much. Satisfied, he shimmied the sleeve back down over the wrap, putting his hand back in his hoodie pocket.

 

"God, Peter, you look like shit." Deadpool said, quietly.

 

Peter shrugged. "It happens."

 

"It shouldn't, though. I didn't think I could hate anyone as much as I do Francis, but looking at what some jackass has done to you, I think I could find room in my heart for a little bit more. Just... tell me you're not dating him, or something." this made a bark of laughter come out of Peter, which dissolved into something like hysterical giggling as he pictured Electro bringing him flowers and chocolates, reading him sonnets while attempting to electrocute his brain into jelly.

 

Finally, he managed to gasp out, "no, not dating him, wow that was good." He giggled a little bit more after that, picturing others in his rogue gallery doing the same; Doc Oc playing Peter Gabriel outside his window, Green Goblin taking him on a date to Coney Island. He slowly cooled down until he let out a contented sigh. God, he'd needed that.

 

"I see." Deadpool said. Peter realized belatedly that Deadpool didn't think the joke was funny. His voice was cool, clinical. Professional. "Got any names for me there Petey-pie?"

 

Peter shook his head.he didn't know a lot of his rogues galleries secret identity, so it wasn't a lie, either.

 

He heard a crack; looking over, he saw Deadpool had squeezed so hard on the couches arm rest that it had given up the ghost, crunching sickeningly in the middle.

 

"Hey. Aunt May gave me this couch." Peter half-whined, way less concerned that a mass murdering psychopath was destroying his stuff then he probably should be. How was he going to explain that the Aunt May if she ever came over? Sorry Aunt May, my boyfriend got all pissy about me getting beat up all the time and took it out on the couch?

 

And there he goes again, thinking of Deadpool as his boyfriend. Spiderman, love of Deadpool's life, doesn't have any claim to Wade, much less Puny Peter Parker.

 

"Aunt May is the one who told me to come. Gave me your address and everything." said Deadpool, and Peter sighed. Yeah, that makes sense.

 

"You didn't have to come." Peter points out.

 

Deadpool snorts, bitterly. "I should have come the first week, kiddo. Should have dragged your ass kicking and screaming, to Aunt May's or the hospital." "I didn't need to go to the hospital that first week." Peter points out, running a hand through his hair.

 

"Then why didn't you come, Peter? What did I do? Between you and Spiderman-" and there was no way Deadpool missed the flinch Peter gave at the mention. It was Peter's behavior as Spiderman that had started all this mess; if he hadn't lost his cool on those guys; if Deadpool hadn't been bleeding out in some unnamed alley in the middle of the city; if he hadn't realized that he was crazy about Wade, and couldn't do a damn thing about it.

 

Too focused on his own thoughts, he didn't read Deadpool's body language until Deadpool stood up, body rigid.

 

"I see." he said, ominously. His voice was back to that calm, terrifyingly professional voice. "I'll take care of it, Peter. You won't have to worry anymore."

 

"What are you-?" Peter asks, but Deadpool is already striding the few steps to the apartment door, opening it, and shutting it behind him. Peter is left in stunned silence, staring at the door. What the hell just happened?

 

\-----

 

It takes less than a week for Peter to get a hint of what's on Deadpool's mind, and that hint is getting shot at. At first, Peter thinks it's a random villain taking potshots, but without his spidey senses he'd be toast; these were too good, too precise. And when Peter followed the trajectory of the bullets, all he got for his trouble was a series of rigged explosives that took out half his costume and a not inconsiderable amount of flesh.

 

The second time it happens, Peter is more confused than anything. This was a weird MO. was an old enemy trying something new, or had he managed to get the attention of some major crime lord that wanted to whack him? That seemed like only the sort of problem Daredevil has.

 

By the third time in the same week, Peter actually gets shot in the leg, and is royally pissed off. He can't get anywhere close to the person that keeps going after him; it's like they're a ghost. there's no telling where they'll pop up, they're always far enough way and just out of sight so Peter can't send webs over to catch them, and by the time he gets to the spot where he's pretty sure the guy or girl was, which he has to check out every time because he can't just leave explosives hanging around the city for some civilian to find, the person is gone.

 

The person is just too damn good; it has to be a professional, there's no doubt about it. He doesn't know who he pissed off, but he knows he's in over his head. He needs help. He wants to get hold of Deadpool - who better to take out a mercenary than an ex-mercenary? - But has no way of doing so. And from the way Peter had been avoiding Deadpool like the plague the last month, Peter wasn't sure that Deadpool would even want to help him.

 

He was just mulling this over when he gets a text from Deadpool.

 

_You should come to dinner._

 

Peter hesitated. What would Aunt May say after all this time? She knew he was busy, even if she didn't know what he was busy with; but 6 weeks of radio silence was a stretch even for him. No wonder she sicced Deadpool on him. And what had Deadpool told her about his little visit?

 

Deadpool. Wade. Seeing him that once had left Peter feeling more confused than ever, but it had still soothed something inside him he hadn't realized way hurting from Wade's absence in his life. Like an addict that had finally been given a fix after detoxing, Peter wanted to be near the man even more than ever, wanted back the warmth of Wade through his gloved hands. He still wasn't sure what was happening, what he was going to do when he saw Deadpool again; he just knew that he really, really wanted to, consequences be damned.

 

He received another text, and his resolve to stay away was stripped away fully. Wild horses and all that jazz.

 

_I'm cooking._

 

\----

 

Despite fishing the bullet out of his leg, Peter was still limping when he got to Aunt May's house. He thought about swinging there, but didn't want to risk getting waylaid again by the sniper and not getting there at all.

 

He knocked on the door, knowing Aunt May preferred that to the doorbell, which always made her twitch. But it wasn't Aunt May who opened the door; it was Deadpool.

 

"May's taking a nap before dinner. Her back was bugging her again, so she took some meds for it, made her drowsy." Deadpool said, and Peter nodded, feeling a little guilty. He had had no idea that Aunt May's back was bugging her. They looked at each other for a long moment before Deadpool cleared his throat softly, stepping aside so Peter could go past him into the house. But he stayed in the doorway, so Peter brushed against him as he went in, an impression of heat all along the side where they touched.

 

"So," Peter said quietly, walking down the hall to the kitchen, "What's for dinner?"

 

"I thought I'd go Chinese today, Szechuan shrimp, pot stickers, lion's head soup, and kai kou xiao for dessert."

 

"That's a lot of food." Peter said, taking in the piles of food prepped for cooking in the kitchen.

 

"Yes, well, I remember somebody eats a lot more than he looks like he could, and erred on the side of more." Deadpool's voice was low, and while Peter knew it was because Aunt May was asleep, it still made his stomach do flip flops.

 

Oh, but he had it bad.

 

"I see." was the best Peter could manage.

 

"Would you like to help me prep? I still need to mix the dough for the kai kou xiao, and keep an eye on the pot stickers."

 

"Yeah, sure." Peter said, surprised. He hadn't expected he'd have anything to do but watch, but doing things seemed easier than trying to look at Wade while knowing what exactly he felt for the other man, and what he wanted to do about it.

 

Peter washed his hands, and Wade showed him the recipe. "Pretty simple; mix together everything but the sesame seeds, I'll take care of the rest." Peter did as he was told, listening to Wade humming a song a song Peter couldn't initially place, until he realized it was a song from The Police.

 

"Hard not to stand so close to you; it's a small kitchen." Peter said, squishing the dough, which was starting to properly stick together, between his hands.

 

"Hmm. that it is." said Wade, and that low voice was very, very close to Peter's ear; damn if Wade couldn't be quiet if he wanted to be. Peter's spidey sense hadn't even gone off telling him he was close. But now his senses were going haywire, taking in Deadpools body inches from his back, the way one arm leaned against the counter next to Peter, his breath coming through the mask to tickle the back of Peter's neck.

 

Peter swallowed. "yep." he said, his voice coming out shaky. He wasn't even one hundred percent sure what he was agreeing with, only that he agreed to it fully.

 

"Your face looks a lot better." Deadpool said, and that was like cold water down Peter's spine. What the hell was he doing?

 

"Thanks, I guess." he said, just a little grumpily, and began kneading the dough in earnest. Deadpool stopped him, grabbing his arm. Slowly, probably so Peter could stop him, Deadpool moved the sleeve of Peter's shirt up so he could get access to his arm, feeling along it gently. Whatever he found he seemed to approve of because he nodded, voice going cheerful.

 

"You heal fast, Petey-pie! Not as fast as me, but really, who can? Now, all we have to do is figure out how do deal with that leg of yours, which yes, I noticed, and we're all good." Peter rolled his eyes. He didn't miss the fact that Wade's hand was still on his arm, skin to leather glove.

 

"Maybe I just looked worse then I was, ever think of that?" Peter shot back, ignoring the comment on the leg, which still hurt like a son of a bitch. He willed himself to go back to the dough but unable to, not when that gloved hand started stroking up and down his arm. He had goose bumps.

 

"You always look good, Petey-pie. You just also happened to have looked curbstomped on top of that." Deadpool said, and Peter snorted. He knew they were treading on thin ice here, joking about something that had made Deadpool's professional side come out in full force, but he couldn't help himself. And then hand just kept on stroking his arm, up and down, up and down.

 

And then it abruptly stopped.

 

"I better get back to the food." Deadpool said and began pulling away, but stopped when Peter grabbed his hand, stopping it, stopping him. they stood like that for moment, before Peter worked up the courage to take Deadpools hand and curved it around himself, pulling Deadpool into a half embrace, Deadpool flush against Peter's back.

 

"Peter." Deadpool said, questioningly, but Peter stubbornly went back to kneading the dough, ignoring how he felt like his whole face felt red from blushing. he felt Deadpool move, stomach knotting at the idea of him pulling away, but instead Wade just rearranged himself, shifting so that both his hand sat firmly to Peters hips, and wow, was that somehow infinitely better.

 

"So," Peter asked, a little breathless and a lot turned on and incredibly unwilling to deal with either of those things, "watch any good TV shows lately?"

 

"Yeah." Wade curled in further, masked nose pressing and then rubbing against the back of Peter's neck. A little huff of breath. "Yeah, I have. And I will talk about it but first; I know you don't watch a hell of a lot, so let me know if any of me talking about this bores you. "

 

Peter chuckled a little. "Trust me Wade. You are anything but boring me."

 

Peter was rewarded with another nuzzle of Wade's nose against his neck, Wade releasing a breath like he'd been holding it. "Right. So I was watching The Bachelor the other day..."

 

\------

 

The next night, peter's in the middle of a series of warehouses, on their rooftops, when Peter has to jump out of the way quickly as he got shot at again, scowling. "Seriously?! It's way too early for this."

 

His spidey sense tingled, and he looked to his over to where he felt it coming from. When he saw Deadpool jumping down from a higher roof onto the one Peter was on though, he found himself relaxing. The mysterious sniper might still be after him, but at least he had someone to watch his back now.

 

"It's not actually that early, you know. It's midnight, perfectly acceptable showdown time." while Deadpool said it cheerfully, there was something off about his tone that Peter didn't like, something in the way he was standing. Peter scanned the rooftops, uneasy with Deadpools unease.

 

"Maybe. I'd still like to face whoever is doing it, though." Peter said.

 

"That can be arranged, Spiderman." Deadpool said quietly, ominously. Before Peter could ask what Deadpool was talking about, several things happened at once Peter heard the sound of metal against metal, his spider sense tingled, and a katana slashed through one of his web slingers; it would have been even worse if Peter hadn't quickly jumped away.

 

He looked over, stunned to realize it was Deadpool that had gone after him. "What-" Peter began, but didn't have time to continue as Deadpool started swinging again, moving with cool precision that had Peter barely managing to avoid major damage from the whirling dervish of death his friend/companion/whatever the hell they were, had become. Whatever was going on, Deadpool wasn't playing around.

 

"Listen I know we haven't talked in a while, but a simple 'you could have called' or 'where were you' is infinitely preferable to swords in the face. Just in case you're doing an inventory on that sort of thing."

 

"Not really, Spidey. I'm just making sure you don't hurt the people I care about ever, ever again." and see, that just sounded odd to Peter. Who the hell had he hurt that was near and dear to Deadpool? He hadn't even done anything besides patrol in weeks, and it wasn't like he had anyone new in his rogue gallery that might be friends with Deadpool. Except...

 

"Is this about that sniper guy? Because I swear, I didn't do anything to provoke them; they just keep going at me. And I've never even gotten close enough to do any damage, anyway."

 

"Unfortunately for you, you absolutely did something to provoke him. I'm the one who's been playing call of duty on your ass." Deadpool threw one of his katanas at Peter, deftly managing to hit Peters other web slinger, and Peter couldn't do much more than gape behind his mask.

 

"You?" he asked, incredulously. He knew that Deadpool was a good shot, but why was he attacking Peter?

 

"I was trying to take you out from a safe distance, but clearly that wasn't working, and you hurt him again, so my patience is running a little thin." Deadpool said, pulling out a gun with his hand not occupied with a katana, pointing it at Peter.

 

"This one's for Peter, asshole."

 

Peter just barely managed to jump away, getting grazed on the side rather than straight through the chest.

 

Peter quickly jumped down, going into the warehouse below, frantically looking for someplace to hide, regroup. He was bleeding too much not to leave a trail, but if he could just have a minute, maybe two, to get his head on straight, he could... do what, exactly, he wasn't sure. Take Deadpool down? How, without his web slingers? He could kill him, as much as that would suck, and hope that it bought Peter enough time to flag down the avengers or someone else to help, but would he have enough time?

 

He jumped and ran through the warehouse, zigzagging around as he heard Deadpool in pursuit.

 

"You know, I actually fell for that I love you thing you pulled last time we met. Would have totally let you get away with anything, if you really loved me. But you're hurting Peter, and I just can't accept that." Deadpool said conversationally. Peter wanted to call out, ask why the hell Deadpool thought that Peter had hurt himself of all people, but he needed to keep quiet, keep his head down.

 

"Really, as much as I hate you right now, I know I should be thankful to you, in some twisted way. If you hadn't been an abusive asshole, I might not have realized how batshit crazy I am over Peter. So, you know, thanks." Deadpool said, and then was quiet for a while. There was only the sound of Peters breath in the mask, the feel of the warm trickle from his wounds. There was a dull roaring in his ears and his spidey senses were going haywire, which explained how he got blindsided when Deadpool came up behind him, grabbing Peters head in his fist.

 

He didn't have much time to get past that initial surprise, as it was at this point that Peter's head was slammed forcibly into a wall, hard enough that even with Peter's super-everything he saw stars. This was then followed by getting drop kicked so hard he was thrown across the floor, gasping.

 

He was trying to get up when his spidey sense went off, but he couldn't do a whole lot as Deadpool neatly pinned him down like a bug with a katana through his shoulder. Which, yeah, hurt. Deadpool checked his gun for bullets, pointing it at Peter.

 

"3. Should work at point blank. He'll never forgive me for this, but I have to do it. You're killing the kid. You need to die, Spiderman, and I'm just the lucky guy to gank you."

 

"Aunt May will kill you worse." Peter said; his vision was going gray at the edges; between all the small cuts he'd suffered and the gaping wound in his shoulder, he'd lost more blood than strictly recommended, even for spider-people.

 

"Don't you dare talk about Aunt May. I don't know how you know her-" he was cut off by Peter's snort of laughter. And really, Peter couldn't help it. How their roles had reverse on Aunt May. And really, if he was going to die by Deadpool's hand anyway, for something he had apparently done to himself, he might as well throw caution to the wind.

 

"I'm her nephew, idiot. That's how I know her." Peter said, words slurring together to the point where for a second Peter thinks Deadpool doesn't understand. But Deadpool wasn't attacking.

 

"...Peter?" He heard Deadpool say; it sounded garbled to Peters ears, strangled. How much blood had he lost anyway?

 

"Hey Wade." He said, casually as he could while bleeding out in front of the guy he was in love with who had just tried to kill him. Peter was mentally congratulating himself for not doing so badly when he passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, cliffhanger.


	4. What we had wasn't really what we'd come to expect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Maybe I, hypothetically, sort of am in love with you."

Peter wakes up in his bed. It takes him longer than it really should to question that. he moves to get up, wincing at his wounds; concussion, definitely, the burn of cuts all over his body, and a deep ache in his shoulder, though he doesn't feel woozy anymore, so he'd gotten back any blood he lost. he does an inventory, and finds out that one, he's stripped down to his briefs, his uniform in tatters over the arm of a chair by the bed, and two, his cuts are bandaged up expertly, which explained why he wasn't bleeding to death anymore. 

Once the events of earlier today (yesterday? it was getting close to evening from a look out the window, but evening of which day?) came back to him, he quickly got up, fast enough his body protests; but that's never stopped him before, won't stop him now. He's down to his briefs, shoulder, head, and leg all bandaged up, wounds cleaned well. He hears some shifting in the living room.

"Wade!" Peter yelled, walking out into the living room. There was no one there. Peter groaned, sinking onto the couch heavily. The spot was still warm; the window was open. Wade must have been waiting for Peter to wake up before he left. Well, sort of left. 

"Damnit Wade." Peter said quietly, rubbing the heel of his hand into his eye to try and get some of the grogginess he was feeling to leave. "We had things we had to talk about. Like how I'm not mad, for instance."

He doesn't hear any reply, but doesn't expect one, so he continues. "I mean I am mad, but mostly because you thought it would be a good idea to kill some guy just for hurting me. We talked about this; I can take care of myself. The whole dramatic reveal just kind of put it in perspective for you."

Peter sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair in frustration. "You're the only one who knows about that right now, by the way. The whole photographer by day vigilante by night thing. And it's weird, but I'm honestly pretty cool with you knowing. I never thought I'd get to that point again."

Peter took a deep breath, preparing himself.

"The truth is, I've sort of kind of got this thing about you. For you. You make me crazy Wade, but in the good way. So, is it possible you could, I don't know, come back inside and I can stop talking to myself, that would be great."

He heard a shifting on the fire escape, followed by a low curse. Deadpool climbed back in through the window, graceful in that weird way of his.

"How'd you know I was out there?" Wade asked, tone purposefully neutral; he leaned against the window sill, head cocked.

Peter shrugged. "I was kind of a weird kid. I've done enough skulking out on fire escapes to be able to tell when someone else is doing it to me."

Wade snorted.

"Interesting skill set you got there baby boy, I-" Wade cut himself off, folding his arms over his chest, not looking at Peter. Peter inwardly groaned.

"Is this going to be weird between us now?" Peter said, "Because I'd like some warning now, rather than later."

"I don't know Peter, Spiderman, whoever you are, do friends usually stab each other and everything remains peachy? I mean that's normal between Logan and I, but we are only kind of friends, and you are and I are only kind of friends in a whole other way, and I'm not sure I can look at you now without thinking about me trying to shoot you through the heart." Wade rambled. Peter rolled his eyes.

"So it is going to be weird now. Great. Can't we just, I don't know, rewind 24 hours?" Peter didn't really having much hope but figuring it was worth asking anyway.

"You've been asleep for two days, Parker. It... was actually pretty touch and go for a hot minute there, I wasn't exactly avoiding your squishy bits. But your healing ability is pretty nice, even if it's not as kickass as mine. You would have been dead in that warehouse otherwise." Deadpool sounded so shut down, quiet where he should never be quiet, and Peter couldn't handle it, shifting up off the couch and going to stand in front of Deadpool, trying to catch his eye.

"Hey, hey. I'm not dead. See?" he waved a hand in front of Deadpool's face, doing his best to smile through the wince when his shoulder protested, and clearly failing. Still he persevered. "I'm okay. I've had way worse. I had worse before I was legal. No harm, no foul."

"But I was never supposed to hurt you, Peter." Wade said, "I've hurt a lot of people, but I was never supposed to hurt you."

"As I keep saying, I can take care of myself. But maybe, just maybe, I like having you by my side in a fight. Maybe I like talking with you and walking home with you from Aunt Mays. maybe I like that you check up on me, text me stupid emojis, do a hundred other things that prove you are more than that one moment when you were genuinely scared for me. Maybe I... more than like you." Peter finished lamely, running out of steam from his rambling confession. He takes a deep breath.

"Maybe I, hypothetically, sort of am in love with you. Maybe I want to make us work, and am willing to put in the work to do that. But only if you are willing to give us a chance, too." Peter says.

"oh." says Wade.

"Did I really just make the infamous merc with a mouth speechless?" Peter teased, testing the waters.

"Little bit. That was quite the speech there petey pie. Made my heart go all a flutter." Wade says, and Peter can hear the humor in his tone too.

"Smartass." Peter grumbles good naturedly, turning to go into the kitchen, thinking about breakfast/dinner. "Maybe I take it back, if you're going to be such a smartass."

"Oh really?" said Wade, and suddenly Peter was crowded against the kitchen counter, Wade hot and right there and perfect. Wades voice went low, and Peter could see Wades eyes flicking from Peters eyes to his mouth and back again. "Maybe I have a speech of my own to make. I love you, Peter parker, all of you as it turns out. No qualifiers, no maybes, I do. And you've got to be crazy to feel the same way, but maybe you are a little crazy, I mean, dressing up as a spider and fighting crime? Who does that?"

"Us, I guess." Peter said, pleased. Wade huffed a laugh, stepping back from Peter to give him a little space. 

"I'm going to cook dinner. You want some?" Peter asked. Wade hesitated.

"I better head off. Things to do, person not to do, you know." Wade said faux casually, walking backwards towards the window, not taking his eyes off Peter.

"What no kiss goodnight?" said Peter cheekily. He could see Wade looking at his mouth again.

"Baby boy, that wouldn't end with just a kiss goodnight." Deadpool said, low, and Peter couldn't help the satisfied smile at that.

"And besides," Wade continued, "we're still working off a T for teens rating here, so no sex on screen."

Peter thought about this for a moment, walking over to Wade and then leaned in to Wade's ear. "Then they're just going to fade to black, because I really, really want to have sex with you right now."

"Bossy." Wade said, voice rough.

"You like it." Peter pointed out. 

"Little more than like, Petey pie." Wade says, eyes soft, and Peter grins, going in for a kiss.

\------

Aunt May looks surprised at first, looking at them both on the stoop, holding hands. Peter had even convinced Wade to come in civilian clothes, hoodie up, but Aunt May still recognized him; she was great like that. "Would you like to come in, boys?"

"Yes Aunt May."

"Yeah, that sounds great May." Wade says cheerfully, tugging at the edge of his hoodie self consciously as they walked inside the house. "Do you want me to cook?"

"I've already started, but if you could finish up that would be wonderful." Aunt May said, and Wade nodded, heading back to the kitchen.

"So," Aunt May said when they were alone, "you finally got your act together. I must say, I think you lucked out with each other."

Peter wasn't really surprised Aunt May saw it coming; she was, after all, awesome. Peter looked in the direction of the kitchen, face going into what he's sure is a dopey smile, but unable to stop it all the same.

Everything wasn't perfect, of course. Wade has nightmares. Peter is a teeny bit of a workaholic superheroing wise. But somehow, Peter knew that they would figure it out. And that was good enough for Peter.

"Yeah," Peter said, meaning it. "I guess we did."

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> Story title and chapter titles inspired by "the Beat That My Heart Skipped" by Dan Le Sac Vs. Scroobius Pip, which I listened to on repeat while writing this.


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